#alienpeppers

“What’s on your mind, hatchling?” Their voice is steady, practical, like they’re asking about a routine check instead of unknowingly standing at the edge of everything you’ve lost.

You force a breath through your nose. “Nothing,” you say. “Just thought I’d stop by.”

Gossan tilts their head slightly, their helmet resting against one knee. “Stop by? Not like you.”

You shrug, the motion stiff. Their eyes don’t leave you, their attention uncharacteristically sharp. You shift your weight, glance down at your hands, and press your nails into your palms. 

“I don’t know. Figured it couldn’t hurt,” you say, barely loud enough to hear. The scaffolding creaks in the wind. “Thought maybe I should… say goodbye this time.”

Gossan leans back, their helmet set aside now. The look they give you isn’t quite suspicion, but something close. “Goodbye? Planning on getting yourself into trouble up there?” Their tone tries for lightness, but there’s something uneasy behind it.

You hesitate, the words clawing at your chest. “Do you ever feel like nothing you do matters?” The question spills out before you can stop it, and you immediately regret it. “Like you try, and it’s—” You swallow hard. “Like it’s just gone.”

Gossan stares at you, their expression shifting, but you can’t quite read it. After a moment, they snort. “That what’s got you all bent out of shape? Sounds like launch nerves to me. Happens to everyone.”

They jerk a thumb toward the ship behind you. “Once you’re up there, looking back, you’ll see it’s not as complicated as it feels. You’ll find your footing.”

You nod. “Maybe.”

The words you want to say press harder against the back of your throat—about the loops, about the Eye, about the countless times you’ve failed—but you don’t let them out. What would be the point?

Gossan reaches out, a hand landing on your shoulder with enough weight to make you look up. Their grip lingers. “Take care of yourself. Don’t lose your head.”

You nod again, this time holding their gaze for just a moment longer than you need to. “I’ll try.”

When you turn toward your ship, you pause, glancing back over your shoulder. Gossan has already turned away, their focus on their helmet again, the moment passing as quickly as it came. But there’s a flicker of something—something you don’t want to name—that settles in the air.

You’re halfway to your ship when you hear Hal call out from the observation deck. The sound pulls at you, and you almost keep walking, almost pretend you didn’t hear. But you know Hal. They’d just find you later.

"Hey! Got a sec?" their voice rings out, easy and familiar, like they haven’t asked you that question a thousand times before.

You pause, the silence stretching between you like a frayed line. Slowly, you turn, and Hal waves you over with a grin that’s as wide as the Hearth itself. You take a breath, steadying yourself before climbing up to meet them.

Hal is leaning against the railing, their tools spread out around them in a mess that only they can navigate. They look up at you with that same bright curiosity, like they’ve never seen you before and like they’ve always known you. It’s exhausting.

“Thought I’d catch you before you head out,” they say, their voice full of the kind of excitement you wish you could still feel. “You nervous?”

You force a smile, and it makes your cheeks ache. “Not really,” you say.

Hal raises an eyebrow. “Come on, you can’t fool me. First solo launch? That’s huge! You’re probably buzzing under all that cool exterior.”

They’ve said this before. You can’t remember how many loops ago, but it’s the same words, the same grin, the same way they nudge your shoulder like it’ll draw something real out of you. You don’t have the energy to give them what they want.

“Yeah, maybe,” you say, looking past them to the distant horizon. The sun is low, its light stretching long shadows over Timber Hearth. For a moment, you wonder how many more sunsets you’ll see before the end of this loop. Before the end of all loops.

Hal watches you, their grin fading until all that’s left is confusion. “You okay?”

You nod. “Just a lot to think about.”

“Want to talk about it?”

The question hits you harder than it should. You’ve had this conversation before. Hal always wants to talk. And you’ve tried. Over and over, you’ve tried. But no matter what you say, no matter how much you spill, it’s always erased. Every word lost to the reset.

“Not really,” you say, and you know it comes out harsher than you mean it to. “Sorry. Just… not right now.”

Hal blinks, clearly surprised, but they recover quickly, nodding with an understanding smile. “Hey, no problem. I get it. Big day, lots on your mind. Just… don’t keep it all bottled up, okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, but it’s automatic, empty. “Thanks, Hal.”

They hesitate, like they’re not sure if they should say more, but then they just pat the railing and turn back to their tools. You stand there for a moment longer, the weight of the conversation you can’t have pressing hard against your back.

When you finally make it to your ship, the cockpit feels smaller than usual, the silence louder. You strap in, flipping switches and running checks with a practiced hand. But your mind keeps circling back to Hal, to Gossan, to all the people you leave behind every time the universe collapses.

You look out at Timber Hearth one last time before launching, the planet spinning slowly beneath you. For a moment, you let yourself hope—hope that this time, somehow, things will be different.

But as the ship rises and the stars unfold around you, that hope feels as fragile as the fleeting flicker in Gossan’s eyes or the quiet smile Hal gave you before turning away. Enough, but never enough. A flicker, never a light. A moment, never longer.

Gossan remembered. You saw it in the way they hesitated over their practiced lines. And Hal, even if you miss them in the museum when you take your time talking to others, still says the same tired things over and over. No, you don’t want to talk about it. Yes, all you want to do is talk about it.

The answers never change. There’s never that fleeting recognition that you swear you saw in Gossan.